


At the Fireside

by WardenCommanderCousland



Series: The Absent Queen [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Brief Morrigan (Dragon Age), F/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 15:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11923899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenCommanderCousland/pseuds/WardenCommanderCousland
Summary: The Warden waits for Alistair the night before the final battle.





	At the Fireside

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this story comes from DahliaLynn's wonderful mod "Alistair's Dark Ritual," which replaces that really awkward scene between Alistair and Morrigan.

Alistair couldn’t even kiss me goodbye before he left to follow Morrigan. I don’t know if he looked back; I couldn’t stand to turn away from the fire.

Morrigan assured me repeatedly she wouldn’t ever come after us with the child, that she had no intention of using it to seek the throne, but that was hardly the point. I was willingly sending Alistair off with another woman.

Normally, I wouldn’t have minded. Men have their mistresses, have had other lovers. But I knew Alistair had been mine and mine alone – he was my only and I was his. Until now.

Not even engaged a week and my betrothed is bedding another woman. Reluctantly yes, but the matter remains. “I told you I could handle my own affairs, Mother,” I mutter bitterly as I sit down on the hearth, watching the flames roar in front of me.

The fire reminds me of so many in the last year. Crackling hearths along the great hall at Highever as my father entertained both Howe and Duncan with tales from his voyages to Orlais, Antiva, Nevarra, and Rivain. The table in the hall was full that night, and now I’m the only one still alive.

The fire outside the Grey Warden camp at Ostagar, where I lay awake in my tent that first night after the joining, listening to the restless movement from Alistair’s pallet immediately outside. The fire where we’d received our orders to climb the Tower of Ishal instead of joining the fray. In hindsight, Cailan’s motives were clear: keeping Alistair out of harm’s way ensured the succession of King Calenhad’s line.

The fires in our camps, as Alistair and I grew closer to one another, the last two Wardens in Ferelden. Maybe it was only natural that we should come together, two comrades at arms seeking each other’s comfort in the wake of tragedy. I want to think fondly on the flickering glow of the campfire the first time we made love, but right now the memory only brings me pain. I can’t imagine he’s enjoying himself.

I just want this to work. I know Alistair would sacrifice himself for me, for Ferelden, in an instant.  We have Riordan, and if all goes according to plan, he won’t have to. But even still, I can’t let Alistair be the one to take that final blow, whatever it takes. I’ll lock him in a pillory in the middle of the square, throw him down the well outside the Chantry. I’ll stab him myself it means my blade is the one that fells the Archdemon. I’m not letting Alistair die.

An hour passes before my door opens again. Alistair is fully clothed and armored, as though he wants to set out for battle immediately. His face is stoic, but salted trails on his cheeks betray the real reason he was gone so long. He takes my hands but won’t look me in the eye. I wring my hands free and clasp them around his face, willing myself to kiss him.

But I can’t. Even though I convinced him to do this, sent him into Morrigan’s arms, I can’t help but feel betrayed. I settle for embracing him, wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms respond in kind, pulling me into them.

I feel teardrops fall onto my shoulder and that’s when my own begin.


End file.
